Summer Skies
by Bomichan
Summary: AU: What happens when the girl you've been crushing on has no idea shes the tall blond heroine of your first novel? What if this same girl has no idea you even exist, and is one of the most popular student teachers in the psychology department? This is how story writer Santana meets psychologist Brittany, will past demons haunt the pages of their romance or will it be a harlequin ?
1. Chapter 1

Thank you all for reading, please note I will not be updating super frequently as my work keeps me very busy and often a little sleep deprived. That being said, please enjoy this humble offering and don't be afraid to comment or criticize.

Summer Skies Chapter 1

It was a cool dewy Georgian morning, the kind where you knew the humidity was just about to lift its sleepy head as the sun peaked over the horizon. A tired looking college student diligently trudged up a tree lined hill toward the education building like she did every weekday morning. A note book full of half written ideas, funny blurbs, sayings, and story lines was tightly held in her left hand as the shadows of those towering oaks bathed her in the coolness of their shade. Chocolate eyes surveyed the tall oaks, the broadness of their trunks, their out stretched branches, and then lower over the crest of the hill to the track below. Those same chocolate orbs narrowed slightly in recognition as she beheld a familiar blond as she ran on the newly re-done track.

A small smile played about her lips as she observed the leggy blond. Even from where the Latina stood she could see the glimmer of sweat on the blonde's brow and how it made her clothes stick to her body. _The girl was seriously hot, even sweaty, especially sweaty_. Suddenly as if she could hear the Latina's thoughts, the blond on the track threw her arms skyward in some sort of victory dance.

The dark haired Latina paused in shock, _What on God's green earth... _she thought before distinctly hearing the blond begin to shout the chorus to "Eye of the Tiger." Chocolate eyes grew wide as she beheld the spectacle of the runner do Rocky-esque moves around the track. The dark haired Latina's lips quirked upwards as a soft chuckle escaped her lips. With a shake of her head she continued on her journey.

The Latina had seen the athletic blonde around campus for the last several months, doing odd things or just going about her business. She had a mysterious sparkle in her eye which captivated the Latina and made her curious about the blonde. Santana had never seen a person exude such confidence while attempting to charm the native rotund campus squirrels with Sriracha flavored chips or take dips in the campus water fountains. It was the combination of that mysterious sparkle, the confidence, and the quirky nature of the blonde which inspired the Latina to base the character of her first book off her.

While Santana was a celebrated graduate student in her field of literature, few knew that her passion was in writing fantasy. Her name was synonymous with awards for gritty, mental short stories which garnered her attention from faculty wishing to mentor her talent. Many in her department either looked up to the reserved Latina or were jealous of her success, as it was rare to not only be published while still in graduate school but to have awards as well. Little did her cohorts know but the reserved nature of the Latina was attributed more to her day dreaming plots or story lines then any actual intention to be aloof.

As Santana sat down in her first class of the day visions of blonde hair drifted through her mind. Bright blue eyes invaded her imagination in a land threatened by dragons. Scenes of a blonde archer running through dense thickets, stealthily creeping up on enemy soldiers, and standing triumphantly over the smoking body of a great horned green back dragon as she did a victory dance were hastily written out in the Latina's trusty notebook.

Her book was part-way written, a piece set in a land filled with Scandinavian like people who were threatened by the mobilization of dragons by a neighboring country. Her blonde heroine was a sarcastic but mischievous archer with a penchant for trouble as she gets mixed up with an assassin's guild, greedy merchants, and of course rampant dragons. It was a far cry from her short stories which were of course known for their dark gritty realism.

If only her peers knew that she preferred epic tales of myth and adventure and that her favorite book was the Lord of the Rings series, her reputation would be totally askew.

* * *

Brittany Susan Pierce had been called a lot of things in her life, but out of shape had never been on that list. Now 27 years old and working on the final year of her Psy.D, she didn't have the time she used to for sports or exercise in general. Classes, teaching classes, a growing coffee addiction, and forming a committee for her dissertation was the focus of her life. Luckily for Brittany, she had been able to make sports psychology the focus of her study and most of her patients were athletes. She had found her niche, and her creative methods for teaching freshmen psychology had earned her a reputation that had freshman and a few seniors fighting to get into her classes.

The first day of psychology usually found Brittany sitting on a desk making a paper airplane as bright eyed college students filed into the room. After laying the ground rules for class, going over the syllabus, and the usual song and dance associated not only with the first day of class but the first day of freshman classes, Brittany usually delved into something more entertaining for her.

Brittany pushed her black thick framed glasses up her nose as she looked around the class. 'Time to freak out the freshies', she thought.

" Ok, take out a piece of paper, don't worry about putting your name or anything on it." Groaning could be heard around the room as papers shuffled. The air became thicker as the students began to tense, visions of a surprise pop quiz running through their minds. A boy in the front hand shot straight into the air, but the blond motioned for him to lower his hand.

"There is always one", she thought.

Brittany seemed un-phased by the student's apprehension and continued with her instructions. " Now draw a capital Q on your forehead with the index finger of your dominate hand."

Brittany smiled expectantly while most of the class looked at her in shock at her odd request. Some students even looked down at their paper in confusion, while others still let out a nervous chuckle. The same hand, from the boy in the front, shot up a second time. Smiling Brittany turned to the young man, and motioned very slowly for him to lower his hand. "Come on, I didn't stutter." The blonde continued.

"Draw a capital Q on your forehead with the index finger of your dominate hand. After you do that, I want you to draw the Q exactly as you drew it on your forehead, onto the paper."

Brittany began walking around the class as she continued her instructions," So, if you drew it with the tail on the left, put it that way on the paper. If you drew it with the tail on the right, put it that way on the paper. If you drew it upside-down with a unicorn jumping through it, put it that way on the paper." She explained to another round of nervous chuckles.

It was clear that the blond doctoral student meant business as she looked out over the young freshmen. 'An-d freak out, duh na na na duh na na na!' Brittany thought to herself as she gazed out over the perplexed class.

Slowly, the class began to do as they were instructed all looking unsure of this strange blonde teacher. When the last person was finished Brittany then smiled at her students. "Class, this was a test to see how good you are at lying" A noise of disbelief rose in the room, which the blonde was quick to hold a hand up signaling for silence, as well as give the young man in the front row with the trigger happy hand a pointed look.

"People who draw the Q on their foreheads in a way that other people could read it, aka you put the tail on the left side are what we call high self-monitor types. People who put the tail on the right, low self-monitor types. High self- monitor types usually are concerned with how others see them and can be a bit chameleon like and adapt themselves to their surroundings. These people are good at manipulation, thus usually better at lying. Low self-monitoring types are usually more concerned with their own inner world and usually are guided by that, thus not so adapt at manipulation. These are the kinds of neat things we get to do with psychology, see you next time" Brittany explained to the class with a smile.

She was greeted with a sea of awed faces, some looking at their papers while others glanced at other classmate's Q's. When no one made a move the tall blond tried again

"See you next time means class is dismissed."

The confident blond who taught freshman psychology was a more recent development, as her friend Quinn would say. It took almost to Brittany's senior year of undergrad to gain that level of self-confidence, it was hard won for the blonde. After the loss of her younger sister in middle school the blond had never been the same. Her quirkiness turned into eccentrism and most of her classmates thought she was a bit stupid. In fact, if anyone had said" in 10 years Brittany will probably be pursuing a doctors" there would have only been laughter.

But Brittany had always had a unusual intelligence. In elementary school her science fair project was fueled by her love of artichokes. She studied the growing times of artichokes in various soil types and hydroponic solutions with extensive growth charts. The entire project was done in orange crayon to compliment the green vegetables. She had even constructed an elaborate greenhouse for her precious artichokes on the back porch. The project, while a success was docked an entire letter grade for being entirely in crayon.

In high school Brittany did a project where she calculated the economic effects of a gundam battle over Chicago and even estimated the loss of human life and property. But her classmates knew her as the girl who randomly spouted Monty python lines around school, and who would often answer with lines from the Flying Circus TV series and various movies when spoken to.

She was known as that weird girl on the soccer team who was a great athlete, but kinda weird. In high school very few people got Brittany, so it was no surprise that she lost contact with most of her high school friends. Sure Facebook had brought them into contact, but only in that way where people view profiles only to see how many pounds you put on after having 3 kids.

But all this mattered little to Brittany, she had her best friend Quinn, and she was content with her life. Even if said best friend made her go to boring plays. Today's highlights were bound to be interesting; she was going to an art show and play with Quinn. Tonight however, the tall blonde would be Quinn's wingman. The goal was to get Quinn to ask her long time crush Rachel out.

_The day previously Brittany stood on the curb waiting for her ride, her foot tapped in a steady rhythm as she continued her wait. It had been a long day of classes and supervision and the tall blond was happy to be done. Finally after waiting 20 minutes, a small blue VG Bug pulled up in front of her._

_"You're late"_

_The dirty blonde inside the Bug smirked up at her as Brittany began throwing her books into the back seat, "Tell me what's new, B."_

_"Prince reinvented himself into a number" the tall blonde deadpanned. _

_Laughter erupted in the small car as hazel eyes winked at Brittany. "Is he even around anymore?"_

_Brittany just shrugged in response just happy to be on her way home after a long day of classes. _

_"By the way B, we're going to a play tomorrow night." _

_"You taking me on a date, Quinny? Do I need to get sexy Brittany out?" The taller blonde suggested playfully._

_Quinn shuddered delicately at the reminder of her and Brittany's first meeting. "No!"_

_Brittany laughed at her friend's reaction, "So what are we seeing? Is it something funny?"_

_"It's Les Mis" the shorter blonde stated quietly._

_"Excuse me? What did I ever do to you?" Brittany exclaimed_

_The other blonde sighed dramatically as she clutched the wheel with white knuckles," It's a great musical B, a classic."_

_" I just heard you say old with oldish charm." Brittany deadpanned._

_"Classic B, it's a beautiful story!" Quinn retorted._

_"Set in the French revolution where many people died, uhuh"._

_"You have got to see the play B, just because you didn't like the book doesn't mean you should put off the play." Quinn tries again._

_Brittany just stared at the other blonde, her face perfectly blank. After a few tense moments Quinn fidgeted even while trying to appear stern. "B, you're doing that psych thing again. Stop."_

_"What psych thing, I'm just sitting here quietly" The taller blonde states with an innocent bat of her eyelashes. _

_"But you're giving me the 'tell me everything about that' look. You know I hate it when you do that." Quinn grumbles._

_"uhuh" _

_As the two pull up to the stop light Quinn throws her hands in the air and shrilly exclaims, "Now you're giving me the empathetic nod! Fine! " Quinn glances away before pushing the gas again when the light turns green. "Rachel is in it. "she finally mumbles. _

_"And Bingo was his name-o. B-I-N-G-O!" the other blonde retorts in a sing-song manner. _

_"Shut up, were going!" Quinn shrilled, her face going beet red._

_"Sing with me Quinn, B-I-N-G-O !" Brittany continues, her eyes sparkling with mirth at Quinn's red face._

_"…I hate you so much right now" The shorter blonde grumbles darkly while Brittany continues to obnoxiously sing. _

_"You love it." Brittany retorted. _

__Tonight was bound to be very interesting indeed.

* * *

That concludes chapter 1, again I hope you enjoyed that.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the feedback and comments. I tried to warn y'all that I would not be updating too often, I'm sorry my work schedule is a little intense. Plus not having internet for an entire month sort of put things on pause. I know some are not excited about the hint of faberry in this fic. Well, the only hope I can offer those people is the fact that faberry is not a reality in this fic as of chapter 2. This chapter is primarily about y'all getting to know the characters better, about their personalities. Let me know what y'all think. Thank you for sticking with this fic and my version of these characters. I also want to state that I love writing about a writer, it's all so very inception like. Like a story in a story. Lol. As I stated before please feel free to comment and criticize. I read them all and take what is said into consideration.

Chapter 2

_It was frigid, and the archer's breath puffed out in visible clouds obscuring her vision slightly. The early morning drizzle made it worse, and the way the archer's leather armor stuck to her body made her feel restricted. She shifted slightly trying to unstick her cotton undershirt from her body. No luck, the cotton stayed glued to her like an unwanted second skin. All around her the forest was deathly silent, magnifying every heartbeat, every stretch of her armor, every movement she made. It was unnerving, and made the archer all the more aware of her surroundings. Stealth was paramount in this situation, Leviine could not afford any mistakes. Her life depended on her skills. She checked which way the rain fell careful to stay upwind of her prey. When hunting dragons, one should not give away the gift of surprise because that was almost guaranteed death. _

Santana looked up from her notebook, her pen tapping a steady rhythm against the paper as thoughts raced through her head. Should she have Leviine be ambushed, should she have her continue to stalk her prey to build up some more tension? Did she even like how this paragraph sounded? So many decisions.

With a sigh the Latina shut her notebook, it was almost time to go and the coffee shop was getting a bit noisy as the afternoon classes crowd began filling up at the counter. Santana had never understood why some girls chose to make class their personal fashion show time; she, on the other hand, was dressed comfortably in jeans and a t-shirt. Her trusty and always present messenger bag at her side, and glasses perched on her nose, Santana was the picture of casual.

Santana shrugged her shoulders experimentally, imagining how a wet undershirt and armor would feel. Would it be heavy and burdensome? Or a familiar and comfortable weight. She made sure to keep her umbrella out as lately the afternoon thunderstorms occurred like clockwork. Something about Georgia in the summer made for strange weather patterns. It was humid in the morning, humid and hot during the day then BAM afternoon thunderstorm. Even if there was no clouds in the sky that morning a thunderstorm was sure to hit by 5 in the afternoon.

For Santana it was a calming time of day, a time when she could reflect and write. Her best thoughts usually came as the rain pelted her window. The steady rhythm of the pitter patter transported her to realities where dragon hunters kept a wary eye on the heavens. But today would have little of that, today was school play with Kurt day.

He loved theater and once told her that he even considered pursuing musical theater in undergrad. However he found that the delight of the state didn't match his passion for helping injured people recover from their injuries. In high school his older step brother was injured while on duty and required physical therapy to recover. Kurt had become fascinated with physical therapy and body mechanics and was now pursuing his doctors in physical therapy. Santana had met the peppy young man during undergrad at her friend Mike's party and the three became fast friends. In fact the three of them, Mike, Kurt, and herself were near inseparable during their undergraduate careers at the University of Florida. Often creating mischief like soaping fountains, and having wild nights that ended in one or more of them puking on the outside of a Waffle House at 3 A.M.

Now, Mike was in the Marines as an engineering officer, and she found herself in at the same university as Kurt. When they could the three friends often got together but with Mike currently overseas fighting the three of them would do weekly Skype chats so long as Mike wasn't getting mortar attacked at the base. That always worried the Latina but she tried to not let the other two know the extent of her concern.

With a final sigh the writer took her now empty coffee mug and disposed of it at the counter. With a last wave to the cute barista she shouldered her bag and walked out into the quickly darkening afternoon, still considering dragon attacks with every step.

At 4:45 p.m. the Mills Theater was humming with activity. Students were milling around looking at the various sculptures and paintings perpetually on display in the art building while waiting for the show to begin. It was a typical scene, and one the brunette had seen many times. In fact, more then she cared to admit.

The Latina preferred the paintings on the 2nd floor to the strange abstract splotches on the first floor. She never understood why the entrance way and first floor were always littered with paintings which looked to her untrained eye like a mass of colors that a toddler had thrown on the canvas. Wouldn't they put their best paintings on the first floor for the rest of the student populace to see? Not some drips of paint on a white or black canvas which screamed, "look at me I'm progressive! I have thoughts, I'm deep!" The second floor paintings were more thought provoking in Santana's opinion. Her favorite was a girl in full color watching a sunset in negative. One could extract meaning from that painting, it was beautifully done by someone named Marley. Santana made a note to find this Marley one day and ask if the painting was for sale.

Santana felt a tap on her shoulder disrupting her internal monologue. "I see you made it" a voice behind her said.

The Latina turned and smiled at her friend Kurt, his eyes shining in barely restrained delight at seeing one of his favorite plays.

"How's my favorite physical therapist?" Santana smirked as she nudged Kurt with her shoulder.

"Absolutely drowning in clinical. I swear I've seen at least 10 people this week for knee injuries." Kurt replied with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"You're doing an internship at the military hospital, what did you expect? Don't they have to run a lot?" Santana countered.

Kurt sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair. He hated complaining about his internship. He was grateful to have it, even though it was very difficult to get. And he loved every minute of working with the world class doctors that treated the men and women of the armed forces. He loved being a part of something bigger then himself. But sometimes working with the military members was difficult emotionally.

"You're doing the head rubbing thing again, stop it Kurt." Santana chastised, then added more gently, "What's up, did something happen?"

"I saw a girl who's our age." Kurt replied softly. "She's been to the war zone twice, and her best friend was killed in the blast she was injured in."

"You worried about Mike?" Santana asked, concern edging at the corners of her voice.

Kurt only nodded, looking away sheepishly. Santana always had a knack for seeing through Kurt's anxieties and he was thankful that he didn't have to say it out loud. Once upon a time he had a big crush on Mike. Even though his feelings weren't returned he always had a soft spot for the Asian even if he was currently in a relationship.

"Sometimes, I think of him out there and you know ….with the mortars." Kurt started softly, "He tries to be all brave but you can just tell sometimes that it freaks him out. And sometimes I can't help but think, what if he doesn't make it home, or comes back injured?"

Santana paused as she looked at her friend, his worried blue eyes shone brightly with anxious unshed tears. Silently she pulled him in for a tight hug which he didn't hesitate in returning. She had those same thoughts once in a while, probably most people with friends and loved ones in the war zone thought those things. But it didn't make it any easier.

"Kurt, he will be ok. He's a big bad Marine now." Santana smiled, "Yes, it's dangerous out there but remember he is out there building stuff and fixing things not fighting in the middle of it like the other guys. Remember what he said the last time we chatted?"

"Thanks for the candy?" Kurt smiled.

Santana laughed and poked Kurt's slim shoulder, "That was a lot of candy wasn't it? He better say thanks, that was 30 lbs of gummy bears and sour patch kids that went to the desert. I was a little worried it would have melted into a giant bag of gummy bear."

"But you're being facetious" Santana faked annoyance as she pinched his ear," remember he said it was an honor to go out there and he wanted to do to go. Don't feel bad Kurt, he will come back. We gotta keep believing that."

With a sigh Kurt smiled gently at the Latina before giving her a hug. "You're right. I guess sometimes I feel guilty when I think about everyone out there."

"It's hard, I know, but you know what" Santana said as she threw an arm around Kurt's slim frame.

"What's that?"

"You don't have to join the military to support them. Candy is sometimes all that's needed." Santana smirked referring to her letter. On the Latina's desk was a signed letter from Mike's unit thanking Santana and Kurt for the candy and saying that it was the best care package any of them had ever seen.

"Now come on oh alabaster of skin, let's get you to your musical." Santana smirked as she ruffled Kurt's hair for good measure while leading them toward the theater doors.

Brittany frowned at the painting in front of her, the large sweeping strokes of paint seemed whimsical with a hint of nonsensical color to the blonde. Modern art confused her, lots of things confused her; but modern art was easily top ten. It confused her more then why funnel cakes tasted more delicious at theme parks then at home or why buns and hotdogs didn't come in the same number. It also confused her more than people who insisted that their double fur coated husky was cold and needed a sweater, those dogs were specifically bred for sub-zero temperatures. There is absolutely no way that in sunny Georgia the dog was cold.

"Why can't they just paint things I can recognize like a happy tree?" she mused quietly.

The lobby of the Mills building was getting more packed with students as the start time of the play drew closer. Laughter and the buzzing of chatter filled the once quiet halls as people milled about or got coffee at the concession stand. It was all a bit much for the blond psychologist. Brittany loved people it's why she went into psychology but people in crowds unnerved her slightly. In crowds the blonde's height became far more apparent and while on the outside she may look like she is standing confidently off to the side looking at an odd painting, on the inside the tall blonde felt large and awkward. Brittany had always been tall; at 13 years old she easily towered over all her classmates at 5'6. While the psychologist was confident in most situations now, she still sometimes felt like that gangly 13 year old girl who was all arms and legs.

"Well that sure is a weird painting." Quinn's voice broke through the tall blonde's thoughts.

"It's called sprites over water." Brittany responded, "But I don't get it, where is the sprite bottle? And why are they glorifying litter?"

Quinn simply looked over at her friend, she was used to Brittany's random comments. "Who knows, but Britt the play is going to start in about 10. I got us coffees so why don't we go sit down?" Quinn asked as she ushered them toward the theater entrance.

"Did you get us front row seats again? You know the last time I could see all their weird stage make-up and I had nightmares about clowns for weeks after that." The taller blond pouted.

Sighing Quinn turned the taller blond toward the door with a gentle hand to her back, " I know, I've said sorry for that I don't know how many times. I got us 4th row seats this time so hopefully no horrible nightmares about clowns. Besides, didn't I tell you NOT to watch Killer clowns from outer space?"

"I know! I know! But how could a movie that lame sounding be so scary? I got curious." Brittany whined as her latte was gently pushed into her hands. "How was I supposed to know they kidnap you and stick you into giant cotton candy cocoons so they can suck the blood out of you?! Who makes a movie like that knowing that clown phobias are common?"

"Seriously Bree, sometimes I wonder about you. Besides, it's probably the same people who made that human centipede movie." Quinn shook her head slightly as the two of them found their seats.

"You love me, I bring spice to your life like the Spice Girls." Brittany replied with a cheeky grin, purposefully ignoring the comment about the human centipede movie. That movie's cover alone had freaked the psychologist out.

"I thought we agreed to never talk about my love of all things Spice Girls?" Quinn ground out.

"Its ok Quinny, come out of your Spice rack. There is no judgment of spice love." The taller blond retorted. "It's all nutmeg to me anyway."

Quinn's frown deepened as her mouth opened but thinking better of it snapped her mouth closed. This round would go to Brittany.

"Minus two friend points for corniness, Brittany."

By the third act the tall blonde psychologist was already bored. If it weren't for Quinn's girl crush on Rachel, Brittany would never have come to the play. She loved musicals but she wasn't a fan of dramas in any form, she dealt with enough drama in her work so she preferred comedies. But she had to be a good friend and support her friend, she just wished Quinn would hurry up and ask the girl out. It was obvious to anyone who saw the two of them together that they both were dancing around the other. But Brittany knew not to push her shorter friend, she got feisty when you did that and ultimately clammed up tighter then a nun on Sunday.

They were in the middle of a musical number, and all Brittany could do was write notes to herself on what groceries she needed to pick up from the store. She needed more laundry detergent, some more mangos, chicken broth of course, how about some bread for toast too, and those little salty delicious balls of wonderfulness…what were they called again, started with a C…?

The margins of her program had her usual "I'm bored" scrawl, it was like her own personal language. During high school Brittany learned to keep her mind occupied during class to saying something which got her laughed at. To do that she had to do something which challenged her attention and made her focus, otherwise her mind would wander and she would feel compelled to make a comment. Unfortunately most of her classmates didn't follow her thought process or thought it was weird.

Thus, she began to write her notes upside-down and backward. It took months for her to perfect but once Brittany had gotten the hang of the technique she used the writing style to take special notes to herself. All through school no one realized that she wasn't writing some sort of foreign language; in fact most people assumed that she was writing in Dutch. When questioned about her scrawl the blonde often replied with a cryptic smile and some comment about mirrors showing what we know to be true. The bond's inner geek felt squealed in joy every time she got to say it. It wasn't until Quinn that someone realized that the psychologist was actually writing in English.

"Quinn-bee I can't take it anymore; I'm going for a coffee refresher and a line of cocaine." The taller blonde quietly whispered to her enthralled friend.

A slight frown appeared on the Quinn's smooth face, and she tucked an errant strand of her dirty blond hair behind her ear. With a sigh the shorter blond spared Brittany a glance as she whispered back sagely, "Cocaine won't keep you awake for the rest of the play, only meth will. Besides, longer half-life, cheaper, and if you can get over what it will do to your skin and face it's worth the Swiss cheese brain you'll get."

"But pseudoephedrine is watched now, how am I supposed to make it? I mean really the first batch would probably be a bust anyway" Brittney retorted playing along with their game.

"I guess you'll just have to make due with trying to find some shady dealer in a back alley somewhere" Quinn shrugged feigning apathy.

The psychologist made a thoughtful sound as she pretended to weigh her options. "Or a swift guillotine strike to the neck will end my misery."

"You watch way too much kung fu Bree"

"I'm testing a Matrix theory" Brittany dead-panned. "Either way, you owe me for this and I expect payment in way of getting to dress you for your first date with Madam Starlet."

"Go get your coffee Bree"

The taller blond just smirked at the blush covering her friend's face as she shuffled out of her seat and toward the exit.

"I wonder if they serve alcohol, because this is certainly a job for it. If not, I wonder how many shots of espresso I can get away with before reaching clinical caffeine intoxication. Better google that later." The blonde thought as she pushed through the doors into the main lobby.

Again, please feel free to comment.


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